


A Hero's Fate

by bluespiirit



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Character Death, F/M, I'm very sorry, Percy Jackson Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluespiirit/pseuds/bluespiirit
Summary: Percy thought he had imagined every possibility. He just hadn't imagined that death would be soquiet.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	A Hero's Fate

Percy Jackson had courted death before.

It was inevitable, one of the only things you could count on as a demigod: That death would come, and when it did, it would likely be painful and untimely.

He'd wrestled with the thoughts that any day could be his last. He had imagined his own death so often: how it might happen, where it would be, how old he would be. He had imagined that it would come quickly, and that was the preferred way. It was all a demigod could hope for in the end; a swift death free of suffering. But after Tartarus, he considered all the monsters he had killed, the curses they put on him with their dying thoughts. He wondered whether he even deserved a quick end after his bloodstained hands had sent so many souls to the underworld. Sometimes, he felt that the universe would take revenge on him, make him suffer in return for all the suffering he had caused.

It was a miracle, he often thought, that death had not caught him yet. Since the day he had seen the fates cut the electric blue yarn, he had been keenly aware of the half of him that was mortal, vulnerable. And even when the blue yarn proved to be Luke's, the look that the fates gave him assured that one day his time would come; they would make sure of it. It seemed to loom over him the way gray clouds invade a sunny sky, threatening the peace of the day with the promise that thunder and lighting would come, eventually.

Yet he had managed to evade it for years. When he saw death coming, his first instinct was to run. Fight or flight had never been a choice for him: His body, like every demigod's, was hardwired for fight. It was his survival instinct, what had kept him alive all these years against all the odds. It was like he and death were playing a game where Percy was the mouse and death was the cat. Percy narrowly avoided capture each time, but didn't the cat always eventually prevail?

He had imagined his death so often, it was like he had already experienced it, time and time again. Burning alive, head ripped off by a hellhound, death by one of the many gods who had it out for him. He had imagined these scenarios and so much more. So, when the time came, he thought he had imagined every possibility.

He just hadn't imagined that death would be so _quiet _.__

The battle still raged around him, but he couldn't hear the sounds of swords clashing, or his friends who called out to him as they watched in horror, the monsters spear piercing him through the chest. Everything around him stilled, moving in such a motion that he thought he was watching a movie slowed to half the speed. It was as if Kronos were back, slowing time and dragging death out so he could savor every bit. He didn't register the spear being yanked out of his body, or falling to the cold dirt, his blood staining the earth. It struck him how sharp the pain felt, like there was a fire in his chest, and even more surprising was how quickly it subsided. Despite his situation, Percy could't help but think how ironic it was that Gaea's wish for his death had come to pass. In the end, his blood had soaked the earth after all.

Percy tried to gasp, but it was like his lungs ceased to work, could no longer draw in air as easily as they could moments ago. He coughed up blood and recoiled at the metallic taste it had. He could hear the loud drum of his heartbeat in his ears but nothing more.

He was vaguely aware of blonde curls looming over him, a creased forehead, tears hitting his face. She seemed far away. He thought he could hear her calling his name. He wished he could reach for her, brush the blonde curls behind her ear as he had done countless times before.

His vision was fading and he could hear his heartbeat slowing to an unsteady rhythm. He wished he had known that death would feel this lonely. He concentrated, hoping to drink in the sight of her beauty one last time before it overtook him, before he would have to leave her until death brought her to the underworld with him.

The memories came, starting as a blur and slowly becoming more vivid.

_We do not remember days, we remember moments._

They flooded in all at once, the scenes that defined the course of his life. They lingered, playing like a drawn out movie.

A holographic trident glowing green above his head. Grover in a wedding dress. Crippling under the weight of the sky. Running through the twisting maze. Oreos and the back of a smelly zoo truck.

" _I just know that I'll fight next to you._ "

He remembers the wolf house, the excruciating pain of having no memories, but pushing on because of her name, the one memory that was too strong for Hera to take. He remembers guiding her hand to the small of his back, the one place that kept him mortal, grounded. He remembers the way he shivered at her touch, the way her hand felt in his. He remembers staring down at her and the endless darkness below, moments away from falling into the depths of Tartarus, and thinking that she had never looked so beautiful.

" _You're not getting away from me. Never again."_

Labyrinths and laptops. A fur coat and hunter's bow. A golden fleece and a ship of ghosts. The cursed blade and a jar filled with hope. A kiss at the bottom of the canoe lake.

His mother's warm smile and safe embrace.

His father's tan face. Proud eyes.

" _I have brought you a hero's fate, and a hero's fate is never happy."_

Fate was cruel, he'd come to learn. The bravest heroes could give so much of themselves, fight and risk their lives for an unforgiving world time and time again, yet a peaceful end was not guaranteed. Not all deaths were meaningful. Were heroes just tools in the end? How much of what Percy had accomplished had come from a sense of obligation to the family of deity's he was born into, and how much was due to his own free will? In the end, maybe it didn't even matter. Because no matter the journey, fate's twisted ways ensured a pre-destined result, and as much as Percy had spent his life trying to defy that destiny, it had finally caught up to him.

But Percy thought of the events of his life, the moments that had shaped his path as a demigod. Sending Medusa's head to Olympus, turning down immortality, forcing the gods to pay attention to their children. His unwavering will and rebellious streak. He smiled weakly despite himself. He'd chosen to be a hero of his own terms- that was his legacy. Every decision he made had been out of fierce loyalty for his loved ones, and that notion brought him peace. Maybe he was always headed toward a hero's fate, but he had lived of his own volition.

Lastly, he thought of the moments of joy that had felt so precious, the stolen time. Time. He was always running out of time. It was the luxury he would never be awarded more of. He had lived the life of a hero, but at what cost? It was something that was chosen for him, something he never wanted. Gods, he never even had a choice.

Her lips formed words but he could not hear them. He struggled to push own his lips apart, to say one last farewell to his wise girl. "Annabeth," he rasped, barely audible. He really wished he had more time. It was all he could manage before taking a last, shaky breath.

He saw death coming, and this time he didn't fight it but welcomed it without fear, letting it carry him to darkness and finally, rest.

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, I am so sorry for writing this. I really wanted to explore what Percy would be thinking in his final moments, even though I would never want to see him die young. The quote, "we do not remember days, we remember moments," is by Cesare Pavese. Feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading:)


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